<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>If Cupid Had a Heart by thelastolympian</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269104">If Cupid Had a Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastolympian/pseuds/thelastolympian'>thelastolympian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Cupid Harry, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Mystery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:47:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastolympian/pseuds/thelastolympian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Away from Britain since she was eleven, Hermione Granger comes back with a prospect to work at the Ministry and live closer to her parents. Everything comes crashing down when she finds out about their divorce, but things can always get worst. A raven-haired boy dressed as a cupid showing up bleeding at her doorstep on Halloween, for example.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Peek-A-Boo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Trick or treat?” A little girl squealed as Hermione opened the door. She smiled at the sight of  little Wednesday Addams holding out her plastic pumpkin, waiting for her treats, and Morticia and Gomez Addams patiently waiting behind her. The Addams Family had been one of her favorite shows as a kid. </p><p>“What a beautiful <em>Wednesday</em> you are! And a lucky one too.” She reached for a purple candy bag that sat on the counter and handed it to the girl as she knelt down and spoke softly in a playful tone. “This is the last candy bag I have. And it has a little surprise inside.”</p><p>“Like the Golden ticket in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?” the girl asked with awe as she accepted the candy bag. </p><p>“Hmmm… no. I don’t have a chocolate factory.” She leaned forward and spoke in a loud whisper. “But I put my favorite candy in the whole world there. It’s from Brazil, and I rarely buy it for myself. It’s called brigadeiro. And now you have a whole package of it!”</p><p>The girl smiled broadly and clapped her hands in delight, running to her parents to tell them the news – who responded with the appropriate amount of surprise despite having heard the entire exchange. She nodded and bid them goodbye, taking the <em>“no more candies left, sorry” </em>sign that she made earlier that day and putting it on her window, closing the door right after.  </p><p>On this Halloween night, all she wanted to do was grab a big bowl of popcorn, some soda, and lie back to watch a trash horror movie on the TV. </p><p>Hermione Granger wasn’t a loner. She just… needed to be alone. Her parents had divorced recently and fled from the country, her mom moving to Australia and her father to America. </p><p>Parvati tried to persuade  her to go to the Halloween Party at the Leaky, but she wasn’t in the mood. </p><p>Parvati, and her twin Padma, had been her first friends in Britain when she returned after a decade of studying at Castelobruxo, the Brazilian School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. </p><p>She had been offered the opportunity by Benedita Dourado herself, the legendary headmistress of the ancient school. Hermione had soon discovered that Benedita had once been close to her great-grandfather, and was delighted to have her in the school for a year in an exchange program. </p><p>Her parents, being more familiar with the presence of Benedita than of Minerva McGonagall, the headmistress of Hogwarts, made the hard decision to send Hermione to South America for her very first year. The young woman had eventually graduated from the school as the top of her class, never setting foot in the British school. </p><p>Just as Hermione had decided to pursue a career in her homeland, hoping to spend more time with her parents, the news of the divorce had hit her like a bludger to the head. The talk was nothing less than awkward and she’d felt like the worst person in the world after hearing that the marriage had been over for a long time, but they had decided to stay together in order to keep up appearances and provide her with a stable home during the time she spent with them in Britain. </p><p>They had finished the papers last week, and she needed time to cope with it. Until she decided what to do, she’d taken a job in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic, where she’d been approached by the twins on her very first day during lunch. </p><p>They’d been best friends since day one. Padma worked at the Department of International Magic Cooperation, while Parvati was an intern at the Department of Magical Transportation. </p><p>Today was the first day of vacation and the sisters were traveling to India for a week to visit their family. Hermione was offered an invitation several times, but she declined in favor of making her home look like a proper… home. </p><p>The house she inherited from her parents was in a good neighborhood in London and had three rooms – one of them already turned into a study and library for the young woman. </p><p>The house would be undergoing a full renovation over the next few days. She wanted to completely make it her own. She had never lived there more than three months a year, which helped since she wasn’t attached to the actual house. </p><p>But she didn’t need to worry about any of that right now. Instead, she snuggled with her favorite blanket as Kubrick's ‘The Shining’ started playing on her screen. </p><p>— • — </p><p>Oh, his parents would kill him if they found out about him like this. Luckily for him, they would be out of the country for the week. He was at the Leaky, on Halloween night, drinking as much as he could, dressed as a cupid. </p><p>Well, “dressed” would be a strong word, looking at his outfit. Some – his mom, for example – might say that he was almost naked. His white gown exposed half of his muscled chest and the white wings were charmed to look as if they were a part of his body. Lavender Brown outdid herself with the makeup and concealment charms, but she had to outdo herself every day, trying to get Ron Weasley to dress properly for work. </p><p>He laughed at his own silent joke. </p><p>Maybe it was the number of Firewhiskey shots he just had, but Harry Potter was sure that Ron Weasley, his best mate, didn’t have tentacles. And the room wasn’t spinning. Something was wrong, very wrong. </p><p>If he’d known about the pill that a mysterious girl slipped into his cup, he would understand what was happening to him. </p><p>But the next thing he knew, Ron had disappeared with Lavender and the girl he’d been dancing with two minutes ago still hadn’t come back from the bathroom. </p><p>Harry closed his eyes and suddenly it felt like everyone was dancing way too close to each other, and he was just flowing with the crowd. </p><p>A person could spend half of their time thinking about  the ‘what if’s’ of their life. </p><p>
  <em>‘What if I had said this instead of that?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘What if I’d taken the job?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘What if I hadn’t walked out that night?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What if, what if, what if…</em>
</p><p>What if Harry Potter hadn’t gone to the Leaky Cauldron? Well, for starters, he wouldn’t be in the position he was at the moment, being unknowingly dragged out of the club His body lax and uncooperative from the pills that had been mixed with his alcohol.</p><p>Someone dragged his disillusioned body  through the streets until his body was dropped on the ground of Knockturn Alley. </p><p>When he opened his mouth to moan after his head hit the rocky ground, a quick stupefy was fired in his direction. </p><p>“Well, well… not so brave now, right, Potter?” </p><p>The man spat on the face of the wizard lying half-unconscious on the ground, kicking his head for good measure. </p><p>It didn’t get any better from there for Harry.</p><p>Blow after blow, kick after kick, landed on his head, crotch, legs, and stomach, leaving the white gown full of blood and mud. </p><p>“Enough!” the leader of the group said, raising one hand. “This should teach him a lesson. I don’t want the bastard dead – at least not yet.” </p><p>The pale man on his left snickered, snapping his fingers and yawning. “What the hell are we going to do now? We can’t leave him here or check him into St. Mungos.”</p><p>“There’s a muggle neighborhood some blocks away from here,” the black man on the right said roughly. “It should suffice and won’t leave any traces. That moron, Weasley, will think the git is just away with some girl.” </p><p>“And we’re just going to drop him off at a random doorstep and go?” </p><p>“Not our problem anymore. He can rely on muggles to help him, like the filthy scum he is. Guess little Potter should start praying for some muggle deity to save him.”</p><p>Laughter filled the dark alley, echoing like a horror movie scene. </p><p>“You.” The leader pointed to the man on his right. “Apparate and leave him there. The less we know, the better. And be quick. The less attention we draw, you already know.” </p><p>The man grabbed the raven-haired wizard on the ground and apparated right on spot, not bothering to take care not to splinch him . </p><p>The street was dark and calm, a soft breeze lifting the confetti papers from the ground. The houses had the lights turned off, except one at the end of the road. The curtains at the front window had a soft glow on it, with a sign taped to the glass outside. </p><p>
  <em>“No more candies left, sorry.” </em>
</p><p>Interesting. </p><p>The man pondered his choices as the man in his arms began to shiver from the cold. </p><p>
  <em>What if, what if, what if…</em>
</p><p>A muggle might say that it was the work of a guardian angel that pushed the man to the house with the sign on the window. Whatever it was, it had the man dropping the bruised body of Harry Potter on the ground by the front door. </p><p>“Good luck, Potter.” He pressed the doorbell and disapparated right after, hoping that whoever found the Potter boy helped him make it through the night at least. Maybe this would help his conscience after what he’d been a part of tonight. Yes, that would do. </p><p>— • — </p><p>Just as Jack Torrance was trying to break into the bathroom with his iconic line of  <em>‘Here’s Johnny’, </em>someone rang the doorbell. </p><p>It was past midnight and the street was quiet, without any signs of disturbance. Hermione wasn’t expecting anyone and trick-or-treaters were long gone. Frowning, she grabbed her wand and disillusioned herself, defensive spells running through her mind. She could never be too careful.</p><p>She peeked through the curtains on the window and saw no one at her doorstep or in the area near her house. Only the twins knew her address, but they were likely on their way home after enjoying the party at the Leaky, not stopping at Hermione’s house for a midnight prank. </p><p>Just as she was about to turn around and leave it be, something that resembled wings caught her eye. </p><p>Angel wings. </p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>Throwing caution to the wind – but still disillusioned –, the young woman decided to open the door to take a better look at whatever was at her front door. When she looked down, her heart stopped. </p><p>A man lay brutally beaten and hurt, trying to open his mouth as if it was the most painful thing in the world. When he was able to, blood sputtered from his mouth. </p><p>“Oh my god!” </p><p>Her hands started trembling as she scrutinized the man lying on the floor. Who would have done such a horrendous thing? And who had left him at her door? This man looked like he’d been dragged around, judging by the scrapes that covered his exposed body. What was left of his clothes were torn and dirty with mud and blood.</p><p>The fight – or whatever violence had left him in this state – probably occurred far away from her house. Granted, the TV was a bit loud, but she would have heard something of this magnitude if it happened near her house. Or someone in the neighborhood would have come to check it out, at least in curiosity. </p><p>Whoever dropped this man at her door, had left him to die.</p><p>She didn’t know what to do and the man was getting paler by second. He started to open his mouth again and she head his broken whisper. </p><p>“...H-Help.”</p><p>Hermione snapped out of her horrified stupor and decided to act. With quick resolve, she decided to bring him into her house, as she didn’t think he could make it to a hospital the muggle ways and he wasn’t in any state  to apparate. She didn’t even know if this man was muggle or not, for goodness's sake. </p><p>The young woman levitated the raven-haired man to the guest room on the first floor and started working on a series of spells she learned with Anne, the chief of the hospital wing at Castelobruxo. During her fourth year, every student attended an obligatory class of medical aid on the battlefield, preparing themselves for any occurrences that might happen during a mission, assignment, or any trouble they might cross during their life. </p><p>At that moment, Hermione never felt so grateful for spending extra time in the hospital wing perfecting her techniques. If she hadn’t, this man would have probably been dead in minutes. </p><p>Her scan showed internal bleeding, broken ribs, a concussion, a broken wrist, and multiple cuts in the abdomen and around the lips. </p><p>Hermione never worked so fast in her life. This man’s life, for whatever reason, was in her hands, and she wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t fail. His wrist had a wand holster whose disillusioning charm was beginning to fade, which proved that he was a wizard. <em>Great</em>, she thought. The young woman opened the emergency kit she got from the kitchen and started searching for the right potions to stabilize him for the night while she developed a plan. </p><p>Her scan showed that his heartbeat was starting to get weaker until she couldn’t see it any longer, and still Hermione couldn’t find any potions to help. In a sudden, and desperate, epiphany, she decided to recur to the muggle methods and started CPR. She counted out the thirty chest compressions, willing his heart to start again before leaning down to breathe into his bloody lips.</p><p>“One... two...”</p><p>Nothing. </p><p>She repeated the chest compressions and breathed into him.</p><p>Nothing. </p><p>“Come on! One, two, three…” </p><p>Only when the diagnostic spell showed his heartbeats once again, did Hermione allow herself to stop and take in the sight before her. </p><p>The man’s raven hair was matted with blood and he was wearing something that at one point had been white before all of this mess. </p><p>The gown, the wings… <em>oh. </em></p><p>He must’ve been dressed as a cupid. </p><p>When the shock left her body, Hermione started to laugh. A cupid. Cupid. </p><p>She did CPR on a freaking cupid. There was nothing more ironic than that. Soon enough the tears began to fall, laughter turning into sobs as the adrenalin finally drained from her body. </p><p>How could anyone do that to another person and leave him at a doorstep? Whoever did this to him, they meant to kill. This was a muggle neighborhood, no one could’ve helped him  make it through the night here. Only by chance, had he ended up  at her doorstep. </p><p>Oh lord. </p><p>She shakily got to her feet, finally able to calmly look through her potions stock. She gave him a dose of blood replenisher and sleep potion, gently massaging his throat to make him swallow them, before picking up some dittany. </p><p>She couldn’t even see his wounds properly from all the blood. She sighed as she found a damp cloth and began to clean him, afraid that a cleaning spell would be too harsh on his wounds. She couldn’t help but notice his muscular chest or the long, dark lashes that fluttered as he went into a deep potion-induced healing sleep. Even with the dittany she used, some of the gashes were too deep and she had to transfigure some t-shirts into bandages to wrap his chest, where the worst of the damage was. Then she started on his broken bones. By the time she was done, she was exhausted.</p><p>She transfigured his clothes into plain sleep pants, leaving off a shirt so she could check the bandages covering his chest later. She grunted as she turned him to one side, removing his bruised wings. After a moment’s hesitation, Hermione took his wand away and locked it in a cabinet, as a safety measure. She still didn’t know who this man was or if he was dangerous. If there was anything that Benedita Dourado had taught her, it was to keep constant vigilance. </p><p>She cast a warming charm in his shivering body and covered him in blankets, warding the room so that she would know the instant something happened. </p><p>The young woman went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee for herself. It was going to be a long night. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Hello! This wasn’t the story that i planned on posting after “I’ll Bring Back Your Love In Seven Days”, but… something inside of me told me that it was the right thing to do. It’s even more AU-ish than the previous one, hence Hermione and Harry not knowing each other. Again, we have Brazilian references in this story. And to clear something up, I’ll have to say this: I am eighteen years old, born and raised in Brazil. I’m not using cultural references for clout, as someone accused me in a review on another story. I know what I am writing about. It’s not on my plans to write Portuguese quotes in the middle of it – even though when I did that, it had a reason and a background for the character to do so. When I write something in another language that’s not English, I put the translation in the notes. </p><p>Sorry for venting, but it was something that really bothered me when I read and I felt that it had xenophobic undertones to it. I hope that you liked the chapter and that it captured enough of your attention for you to follow this journey with me. Big thank you to the best beta in the world (@sonofahorcrux).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Get to Know Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>People say that the best part of the day when you are in pain, is when you wake up. Those first seconds of the day are bliss; they feel like the peak of your existence. You can’t really recall what happened, and you can’t feel pain because your brain has not registered the state of your body yet. Those seconds are precious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The part that everyone forgets to telll you is that when you wake up, your brain assaults you with all of it, all at once. Once you fully regain consciousness, you’re hit with all the pain, all that you suffered, and what you are going to deal with in the aftermath. It’s a shock on your body and mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately–or fortunately, depending on your point of view–, Harry Potter wasn’t hit with the latter, the one everyone is too afraid to mention when they are trying to soothe and calm you down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went from blissful unconsciousness to pain. The latter more than anyone should be able to suffer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he registered the pain, however, Harry still had no memory to help him understand what had happened to land him in his current state. Of course nothing in the life of Harry James Potter was predictable and occured as it should. He was reckless, acted on impulse, defied logic, and often willingly ignored the consequences of his actions and who they would affect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he jumped through the expected phases of the recovery and went straight to panic mode. To be fair, anyone in his shoes would act similarly. That is, if this sort of thing actually happened with normal people, of course. Normal people didn’t wake up like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Normal people would at least remember who they were. But like his mother often said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“you’re not everyone else, Harry.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, he had no memory of that either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to open his eyes, but his vision was blurry. He blinked a couple of times, but it still didn’t bring his surroundings into focus.  Harry lifted his right arm intending to rub his eyes, thinking it could just be the sleephaze that was making the simple act more difficult than it should be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he lifted his hand, however, sharp pain erupted along the right side of his torso, spanning from his ribs to his shoulder. The raven-haired man carefully dropped his hand onto his chest. That’s when he felt the hospital bandages. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The panic that he’d already been struggling against increased immediately. His eyes widened, startled, as he realized he couldn’t see because he needed his glasses. He remembered, somehow, that his blurry vision was something that only glasses could fix. If only he could remember anything more useful. Like his name or how the hell he’d gotten where he was.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was he in hospital? Something had happened, of course, otherwise he wouldn’t be laying in a bed covered in bandages. Wherever he was,  he knew he was safe enough. His wounds had been taken care of, and by the size of the bandages, things were bad when he’d arrived here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he squinted around with his blurry vision, he noticed that he was in a room of some kind, with white walls and something that looked like blue curtains. There was a large black shape along one of the walls, which he concluded could be a wardrobe. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not a hospital, then’</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought,  more confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As far as he knew, hospitals didn’t have a wardrobe in their rooms. On the other hand, he couldn’t trust his mind at the moment. Harry huffed, feeling helpless, as his panic continued to increase. A layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and it was getting harder to breathe. He would feel tears of frustration forming in his eyes. He was about to shove aside his pride and call for help when a hazy figure entered the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sense of relief washed over him, but his parched mouth couldn’t produce anything louder than a whisper. He couldn’t even lift his arms or make any harsh movements without making the pain worse. He prayed the desperation he felt was crystal clear in his eyes for the new person to read. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The figure got closer and closer to him. He heard light steps as a light floral scent invaded his nostrils. A woman, then. She must have noticed his panic, because she spoke to him in a low and measured tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello. You are safe and stable now, but your body is too frail for you to make any harsh movements.” Harry noticed her voice was soft and soothing. “I need you to breathe, but at a more rhythmic pace. Inhale through your nostrils and exhale through your mouth, counting to three. Close your eyes and focus only on the sound of your breathing. Come on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did as he was told and heard her doing the same, but it wasn’t helping much. She must’ve been looking at him attentively, however, because she began to speak to him once more. Harry thought he’d never heard a sweeter voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, you have to sit on the bed, but you can’t do this on your own. Can I help you?” He managed a small nod and she adjusted his pillows to prop him up in the bed. The new position made it easier to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The feel of her hands on his back and torso while helping him sit up was calming--like her touch was grounding him. She left her hands in the same place as she repeated the breathing exercises with him. This time, he was able to calm down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better, right? I am sorry that I wasn’t here as soon as you woke up, I was in the middle of the shower when I felt the wards in the room changing.” She took her hands away from his body and he immediately felt the loss of contact. “Here, open your eyes. I had to take your lenses while you were sleeping, so I assume that your vision isn’t the best at the moment, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded numbly and opened his eyes, his vision still blurry. He didn’t really remember closing them. He tried to think through the million questions running through his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who was this woman? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why was she helping him? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How did he end up there? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who he was? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry lost his train of thought when he could suddenly see properly. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light in the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing he noticed was the chestnut hair rolling in waves off the shoulders of the woman facing him. Her skin was the golden hue of someone that spent time in the sun, and her cinnamon eyes were a mix of exhaustion and relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He refrained himself from staring at her full lips, which were slightly parted. She gave him a slight smile, as a frown formed between her brows, forming an odd expression on her face. The woman took her eyes off him and coughed awkwardly, as if she was embarrassed by something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe your throat is hoarse right now and it’s a little hard to speak, right?” Not waiting for his nod, she stood up and tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I’ll go get you some water and a pain relief potion and then we have to… talk about some things. I believe you have as many questions as I do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry was intrigued by this woman. Her clothes hugged the curves of her body and her smile was simply dazzling. She had an aura of kindness and confidence around her, but most importantly, she had saved his life. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued and attracted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the woman came back with a glass of water and two other vials in her hand, he made an effort to sit up straighter and puff his chest, which proved to be a terrible decision that had him wincing in pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She must’ve noticed, because the corner of her lips curved slightly up as she put the vials on a nightstand beside the bed and lifted the glass of water to his mouth, helping him slowly swallow it, sip by sip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is a pain relief potion and the other one is a special cream to help with the cuts in your face and chest.” She put the glass on the nightstand and took the vials, carefully, holding them closer to his face. “I’ll need you to stay still. After you take the pain relief, you’ll have to lift your arms a little so I can change the  bandages on your chest, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The potion tasted terrible, but he forced down every drop under her watchful eyes. The woman stood up abruptly, disappearing with the empty glass into the kitchen again, before coming back with a first aid kit in one hand and another full glass of water in the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll need that.” She helped him slowly drink half of it and then proceeded to take off the bandages covering his chest, exposing a variety of red and purple bruises. Luckily for him, the potion was taking effect and he didn’t feel a single pang of pain as she applied the cream to his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands were soft and she applied the mixture, gently massaging it into his skin in circles throughout his chest, with surgical precision. Harry closed his eyes, feeling the tension leave his body bit by bit. Clearing his throat, he built the courage to speak for the first time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up as she finished with the bruises on his chest and moved on to the cuts in his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione. And yours?” She replied absently, finishing her work on his forehead and moving to his battered cheekbones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped her ministrations and looked him in the eye, her arm still hanging in the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry felt extremely uncomfortable. He dropped his gaze to hide the flicker of shame and fear he felt, choosing to stare at his hands resting in his lap instead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt useless, angry, and, most of all, betrayed. Even though he had no memory of what had happened, his current state made it clear that whoever had done this to him could’ve killed him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d most likely lost consciousness during the violent episode. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Realization dawned on Hermione and while she was a little suspicious of the man lying in her room, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. His wand was in a separate place, of course, and he was too injured to try anything with her. Her sympathy wouldn’t make her lower her guard. “What do you remember?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can remember basic things. Words, numbers, streets, historical facts, and some spells. But I can’t remember my name, my family, my friends... or any aspect of my personal life. That is if I have anything at all. Do we--do we know each other?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No, we’ve never met,” Hermione told him as bit her lip and looked at the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. When she turned around to face him, he was eyeing her with a peculiar expression, as if he was trying to decipher her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember how you ended up here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. If you could help me with that, I’d appreciate it very much.” He replied with a serious frown between his eyebrows. “It might help me remember something.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, either,” she sighed. Seeing his baffled expression, she elaborated. “I was watching a movie in the middle of the night when someone rang my doorbell. When I opened the door, I saw you laying on the ground, beaten, bruised, and bloody,  and asking for help. I don't think you being left here was part of the plan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I still don’t remember anything. There’s anything else that you can tell me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you were dressed as a cupid… which makes sense, since yesterday was Halloween. You must’ve been at a party or something. And… well, you’re a wizard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am.” He said numbly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your wand is safe , don’t worry. You won’t be able to use it until you’re healed so… when you’re ready I’ll give it to you, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pressed his lips in a thin line but decided to stay silent. A lot of scenarios were going through his mind, but he couldn’t throw everything at this Hermione girl. She saved his life, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you… Hermione.” He replied in the most polite way he could, trying not to show his indignation at his wand being away from him. He had no memory, was under the care of a stranger, and no wand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, he couldn’t really hold any of that against her, could he? She hadn’t asked for any of this and was going through an awful lot of trouble for him to make a scene about his wand. He couldn’t use it, after all. And if this was the cost of her feeling safer around him, then so be it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and the corner of her mouth lifted a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think by tomorrow morning you’ll be able to walk and move your arms properly. The only problem will be the pain and some internal wounds that are still healing, but I can brew the potions for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you doing this for me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence reigned in the room for a moment as Hermione made the same question to herself silently. After pondering for a moment, she decided to answer in the best way she could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I learned about medical aid in school. Especially in battlefield situations, where things get more… complicated. And I didn’t have a choice, did I? Someone left you to die on my doorstep, in a muggle neighborhood. Lucky for you, I was awake and I happen to be a witch, because I don’t think you would have made it through the night otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her answer hit Harry like a slap in the face. It was sobering to acknowledge just how close to death he’d been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But in the end, I suppose it was a matter of honor and principles. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I knew I could have saved a life and did nothing.” The air in the room grew heavier as her statement settled between them. “Well, I will leave you alone for now. If you need anything just call me and I’ll come to help, but I reckon you’ll drift off to sleep soon. Healing always takes a toll on the body and on your magic. I put valerian in the pain potion to help you sleep--natural sedative--and it should be kicking in right about….now.” ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost as if she had timed it, he felt his muscles start to go lax. He really should have been more wary of what he was drinking, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. It felt as if the mattress was shaping itself around him, hugging his body and wrapping him in security. In the end, all he could do was mumble a quick ‘thank you’ before closing his eyes and  falling into another deep healing sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Hi! I am completely overwhelmed by the positive response the past chapter had - thank you! Please let me know in the comments what are your thoughts on the story and your stories about what happened. </p>
<p>A big shout-out to Érika, the best beta in the world.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dilemma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time is a funny thing. It can be a blessing, a chance to look at the big picture with more wisdom and not make the same mistake twice. But it can also be such a disgrace. You see yourself growing old as your physical beauty fades into memory--your very life seems to slip through your fingers. </p>
<p>Time can heal deep wounds and reconnect brothers and sisters that haven’t spoken in years. It can even bring back memories suddenly, startling someone with the knowledge of what happened years ago as they wonder why it had been locked away to begin with. </p>
<p>In Harry’s case, nothing of the sort had ever really happened to him. Until now. </p>
<p>His vision was blurry and his whole body ached. He heard echoes of voices in the distance as blood spluttered from his mouth and sweat covered his forehead. </p>
<p>The vision abruptly changed, but he still couldn’t make the scene around him make any sense. He was going to die. A figure dropped him on the cold hard ground, before  looming over him and whispering: <em> “good luck, Potter”.  </em></p>
<p>He heard the faint sound of a doorbell before the crack of apparition followed soon after.</p>
<p>
  <em> “H-Help…” </em>
</p>
<p>He rasped as blood began to spill from his mouth once more. He was afraid he would choke and die right there and then. He tried to say it again, but  his body refused to cooperate, too drained from his ordeal. That’s when he started to panic. </p>
<p>
  <em> “Hel...H-..Help.” </em>
</p>
<p><em> “This is your wake-up call. Unlike your nightmare, I’m here to start your day!” </em> A feminine and robotic voice broke in, followed by a green explosion as <em> Avada Kedavras </em> hit his chest. </p>
<p>“Harry! Wake up!” The wizard felt someone shaking him and opened his eyes, meeting the sight of a disheveled woman leaning closely over him, gaze full of concern. Hermione. </p>
<p>He lay there panting and sweating as he tried to understand what the bloody hell had just happened. </p>
<p>“Shh, shhh… it was just a nightmare. Focus on me. It’s Hermione here, okay? You are in the guest bedroom of my house, there’s no one here wanting to cause you any harm. Breathe. Inhale, exhale…” </p>
<p>Hermione's hands were firm on his shoulders and her eyes were staring right at him, with a mix of tenderness and focus. Slowly, as he started to gain his composure again, his heart finally stopped trying to climb out of his chest. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Harry said and she smiled, satisfied. It was brief, that smile. Between one breath and the next, her demeanor shifted and her hands left his shoulders. He immediately missed the warmth and looked up to see her standing with her arms crossed against her chest. He absently noted the window had been opened a crack as a slight breeze caused the white satin gown she wore to float gently around her. In the pale light of the room, she looked almost ethereal. </p>
<p>“Uh… Can you remember anything from the nightmare? It might help if you put it into words.” </p>
<p>Luckily, her words snapped him out of his preoccupation with her nightgown before he could be caught ogling her. “It didn’t feel like a nightmare… at least not in the beginning. I was on the ground and someone was beating me. There was blood and I thought I was going to die. Then the image shifted…” Hermione had her eyebrows furrowed as he recalled his visions and made a sign for him to proceed. “It was a new surrounding. I heard a voice wishing me good luck and echoes of a doorbell, but I couldn’t really see or identify anything. The rest was just weird.” </p>
<p>“What happened at the end?”</p>
<p>“I was hit by a Killing Curse. It’s one of the three-“</p>
<p>“Unforgivable spells. I know. They are globally prohibited, you know? We are not animals that don’t know magic in other countries.” </p>
<p>Harry gulped audibly and closed and opened his mouth comically. Unable to say anything in his defense. Hermione laughed loudly. </p>
<p>“It’s a joke, Cupid!” </p>
<p>His cheeks grew warmer and he looked down, embarrassed by the nickname she’d given him. </p>
<p>“Oh, don’t be like that. We needed an ice-breaker.” She looked through the window and a serious expression took over her face. Harry could almost hear her thinking from where he lay.</p>
<p>“Sorry.” </p>
<p>The witch glanced at him again and spoke in a no-nonsense tone.</p>
<p>“I don’t think it was a nightmare. You might be having an episode of post-traumatic stress. The memories are coming back, but it’s all too blurry. I think the trauma is making your brain produce images as it tries to sort out what happened to you, which means you won’t be able to tell what’s real and what’s not. It’s like the Truman Show in a way.” </p>
<p>“Is there any way we can separate them out? I’d appreciate knowing what the hell happened to me. And I have to do that at the earliest convenience possible so I can get out of here.”</p>
<p>“Well, for starters, you are alive. So the whole killing curse thing can be ruled out of the book. The <em>good</em> <em>news</em> is… I don’t know, actually. I’ll need some time to put the pieces back together and see why you were left <em>here.</em>” She sighed and then shot him a funny look. “Damn… that did make me sound like a terrible host, didn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Oh no, absolutely not… but wait until my mother hears about how you treated me.” Harry teased, going along with the joke which made her chuckle and roll her roll her eyes.</p>
<p>“And what is she going to do? Throw a bunch of doves at me?” </p>
<p>“Maybe she’s going to put you and that irritating bloke from the Ministry together.” He answered smugly, arching his eyebrows. </p>
<p>“Ew! McLaggen? No, thank you. I’d rather go out with Wood before that happens.” She trailed off and looked at him after his lack of response. “I think I made a mistake after telling you about my love life.”</p>
<p>“Or the lack of one.” </p>
<p>Hermione shook her head and started to walk to the door. “Good night, Cupid.” </p>
<p>“Good night, Hermione.” </p>
<p>As much as she tried, Hermione couldn’t go back to sleep. In the last couple of days she had saved, treated, and was now hosting a strange man in her house--something that, more likely than not, put her at great risk. Dourado once said that her instincts would be the death of her someday. She just hoped this wasn’t the day. </p>
<p>Just as she was finally drifting off to sleep, the image of Harry in his boxers invaded her mind again. The piece of clothing was the only thing she could find in the house-- her father had left them behind during his last visit. And if she wanted to avoid any more awkward moments caused by her hyperawareness of him, a trip to the nearest store was the first assignment of the day. </p>
<p>— • — </p>
<p>“Well, there’s only a way to debut these clothes then. But you have to promise me that you will accept any gift that I give you after I come back to my senses.” His voice filled the kitchen as he passed through the door, carrying a can of paint and two brushes.</p>
<p>“Fine. As long as it’s morally acceptable, I will.” Hermione laughed, but the sound died in her throat as she turned around and saw him. “Care to explain?” </p>
<p>“Since my unexpected arrival has hindered your plans, it seems only fair  that I provide an extra set of hands to help you fix the house until the end of your vacation. That's what I can do without magic on my last day.” </p>
<p>Unexpectedly, Hermione felt a little pang in her chest. She had quickly gotten so used to taking care of Harry and having him around that the prospect of being all alone again seemed depressing for her. </p>
<p>“I already told you it didn't hinder my plans. I wouldn’t be able to do much without magic on my own, and when you… leave, uh, tonight… I can work my way out. It’s just some small changes, that’s all.” </p>
<p>“Nonsense. Come on, I’ll even let you splash some paint on my brand new green shirt.” He smirked and she swallowed a huge sip of water to keep her mouth busy while he spoke. “By the way, why did you buy it in this colour? Any particular reason? I noticed that the paint you have is also green.”</p>
<p>He said all of that with a smug look on his face, staring aggressively with his intense green eyes. <em>Oh,</em> <em>boy</em>. </p>
<p>The witch murmured something inaudible under her breath as her cheeks heated, gesticulating vaguely, and trying to finish her glass of water at the same time. Just when she thought she couldn’t get more embarrassed, she choked on her drink and started coughing frantically, making a complete fool of herself simply because Harry’s flirting had caught her off-guard. </p>
<p>Hermione was furious at herself for reacting like that. This was just not her typical self. What the hell was happening? <em> Stupid Cupid, stupid Cupid, stupid- </em></p>
<p>“Um, Hermione? Are you okay?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m fine,” she rasped out when she could finally take a breath without her lungs searing. “Uh, i… no, there’s no reason in particular for the paint.” </p>
<p>“Are you sure?” </p>
<p>“A hundred percent.”</p>
<p>“Hm. Ok. Well I’m going to change your mind and green will be your favorite color someday,” the wizard informed her confidently, handing one of the brushes to her. “Let’s go.” </p>
<p>Little did he know that green had already made a leap on her favorite colors ranking since yesterday. With no particular reason at all, <em> of course.  </em></p>
<p>What followed was an extremely awkward painting session, in which Hermione avoided any sort of physical contact and reduced her dialogues to monosyllabic answers. Harry, on the other hand, gave up after the fourth time he tried to engage her in a conversation and remained silent for the rest of the ordeal. </p>
<p>“Excuse me.” </p>
<p>She heard the noise of the water running through the bathroom sink and barely stopped herself from banging her head on the newly painted wall, cursing herself mentally for her noticeable abrupt change in behavior for no apparent reason. Not to mention, her lack of attention had almost cost her her brown hair.</p>
<p>Why did she feel so attracted to this beautiful stranger? And more, why did she trust him so much? His wand was still stored in the transfigured vase in the guest room, the same room he slept in every night. Hidden in plain sight, a method that was as effective as it was risky. Apparently, Hermione Granger was into taking a lot of risks lately. </p>
<p>She wasn’t the type of girl to let her feelings take control of her actions, at least not on a daily basis. But she’d welcomed a stranger into her home, healed him, and was inexplicably attracted to him. </p>
<p>Fine, he was handsome. And funny. And a very good listener, despite her massive rants about every subject possible. But he could also be dangerous. The situation itself was dangerous. Someone attacked him, left him to die on her doorstep, and then wished him luck. Did they know she was a witch? If so, why her? And why do this to him? For all she knew, he could be a bad guy. </p>
<p>As soon as the thought took place in her mind, however, she discarded it. No. He didn’t have any resemblance to a bad guy. His mannerisms, his personality… even though Harry lost his memories, he wasn't in a vegetable state. He was pretty much the same as before, minus the memories of his name, family, friends, work or any kind of relationships. </p>
<p>When he came back, she had her eyes closed, back pressed against the old sofa that was drawn to the middle of the room and covered with journals. </p>
<p>“Hermione? Is everything ok?” His voice was full of concern, as if he was worried she was moments away from passing out on him. The witch smiled at his thoughtfulness but quickly schooled her features. </p>
<p>“Yes, sorry. Just a lot going on lately.” </p>
<p>“I was thinking and… can I make dinner for us today? I’ll go away right after. I just...well,  I reckoned that it could be a nice farewell.” </p>
<p>He was offering to cook dinner. For the both of them. Alone. Nonetheless, this was definitely not a date. Pull yourself together, Granger!</p>
<p>“Okay.” </p>
<p>For the first time in the evening since they started painting, Harry smiled. The brightest smile he’d given her yet since his stay there. </p>
<p>“Sweet. Any specifics?” </p>
<p>“Anything is alright with me. But I don’t like shepherd's pie. I’ll be right back.” She gave him a faint smile and went to the bathroom to brush the paint smell off of her. </p>
<p>— • —</p>
<p>“Ummmmm.” The sound that escaped her mouth when she tasted the last piece of Harry’s homemade pizza sounded horrendously close to a moan. The man was a chief in the making, honestly. </p>
<p>She wondered if this was his previous occupation before the incident. Did he own a restaurant? Did he have people after him, worried about his safety? </p>
<p>Then the thought hit her like lightning. What if he had a girl at home waiting desperately for him? And, and.. a son? He couldn’t be much older than her, judging by his looks. But that wasn’t any consolation, since plenty of her former colleagues had been married or had been expecting a child within the past year. The baby boom in South America was <em> real </em>, and the same could have happened in Britain. </p>
<p>“I will take that as a compliment, then.” Her line thought was interrupted when his deep tone echoed in her ears. When she met his piercing gaze it was full of mirth and she felt her knees wobble. Thank Merlin she was sitting down. </p>
<p>She smiled weakly at him and an awkward silence fell between them, until a rather uncomfortable cough from Harry broke it. </p>
<p>“Well, I guess this is it then. Thank you fo-“</p>
<p>“Stay the night!” </p>
<p>Hermione blurted out loudly and felt herself go bright red in mortification as she realized what she’d said. What the hell? </p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>“I mean, if you… y-ou want to, o-f course. It’s dark outside and I think it’s safer if you go in the early morning.” </p>
<p>There, she had it. The lamest excuse of all time. She bit her lower lip and watched his features in anticipation, looking for some kind of hint of what he was going to say. </p>
<p>“I-I… wow. I don’t really want to impose, Hermione.”</p>
<p>“You’re not, really. Stay, Harry.”</p>
<p>He looked down at his plate and played with his fork for a bit, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. </p>
<p>“Ok. But I’ll do the dishes and make you breakfast tomorrow. I’m abusing your hospitality.” </p>
<p>The witch huffed out a laugh and cleaned her mouth with a napkin. “You’re too polite for your own good, Cupid.”</p>
<p>“I decided that if I can’t remember who I am, the least I can do is try to be a decent human being. Luckily, when the memories come back, I’ll be a better person than who I was before.” At her incredulous look, he added. “I must’ve really pissed someone off to end up like that on your doorstep. Won’t take any chances again.” </p>
<p>“That doesn’t necessarily mean that you were a bad person, which, for the record, I really don’t think was the case. There are cruel people out in this world.” </p>
<p>And as the subject of conversation shifted and deepened, something seemed to change between them in those precious moments. The awkward silence didn’t have any room to exist anymore. </p>
<p>“Wait here,” Hermione said and stood up, walking confidently towards the guest bedroom. After a series of complicated wand movements, a piece of wood rested on the table besides the raven-haired man’s bed. </p>
<p>Strolling back to the kitchen, she found him washing the dishes, whistling to a random tone. </p>
<p>“Look, I think we have enough respect for one another for me to trust you with this wand under my roof. I don’t know much about you, but, unfortunately,… Neither of us does. I don’t believe you are a bad person, and I could be risking my life by giving you this. But…” </p>
<p>The witch had a non-verbal Protego at the ready and was hoping against hope that she wouldn’t have to use it. </p>
<p>Harry was staring at her wide eyed and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly before he pulled himself together and took a deep breath. He slowly dried his hands and approached her, feeling the piece of wood in his hands. It felt familiar, sparking a strange feeling in his body. The only link he had with his previous memories were a pair of wings and a white tunic, from his Halloween costume. </p>
<p>This, on the other hand, was a direct link to who he was. He closed his eyes and fought with the enormous wave of emotion that threatened to overcome him, swallowing his tears. </p>
<p>“Thank you.” </p>
<p>Just above a whisper, but nothing else needed to be said. He stayed the night. </p>
<p>— • — </p>
<p>The smell came to her even before she stepped into the kitchen. Upon her arrival, however, she came across a scene that would be adorable if it weren’t so comical. </p>
<p>“Shit, shit, <em> shit </em>!” </p>
<p>Her kitchen was a war zone. In direct contrast to yesterday, the sink was a mess and Harry was running around frantically, not even noticing her watching him from  the door, with a smirk on her face. </p>
<p>“<em> Ahem </em>.”</p>
<p>The raven-haired man stopped dead and turned to look at her, holding a fridge in one hand and the salt in the other. </p>
<p>“Need some help, Harry?” </p>
<p>It was taking all of her willpower to not  stare at his bare chest and boxer shorts. His unruly hair and sleepy face, though, made her heart skip a beat. The whole scenery was so… familiar. Not because she lived it before, but it was the type of image that you usually see in movies. <em> Romantic </em> movies. </p>
<p>“Uh, no. Sorry about that, I swear I’m going to clean everything up. It’s just that I slept more than I should and… well.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she couldn’t stop from smiling at the sight. </p>
<p>“It’s okay, Harry. You didn’t need to do that. Actually… we need to talk.” </p>
<p>At that very moment, the toast decided to jump out of the machine. </p>
<p>“One sec, please.” He pulled up two plates and made a breakfast table in record time, smiling at her amused look and gesturing for her to sit. “Ta-da!” </p>
<p>“Thank you, Harry.” </p>
<p>“You’re welcome.” </p>
<p>They started eating and the dread of what she had to say began to increase in her chest. This past week was proving to her that people indeed changed and that lately she was more of a woman of action and not plans. </p>
<p>Hermione laughed just at the thought of it. It sounded so absurd to even think about saying that a month ago. </p>
<p>“What?” Harry asked with a confused look and the ghost of a smile on his lips. </p>
<p>“I just realized that I’ve been doing things very out of character lately.”</p>
<p>“Like having breakfast with a stranger in your kitchen?” </p>
<p>“No, not so strange.” He shot her a funny look and she laughed. “I’m kidding! I’m not like that, Cupid. Put some respect on my name. I shoo’ them away at the earliest convenience.” </p>
<p>He choked on his orange juice and it was a few moments before she could broach the subject again. </p>
<p>“No, but really. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since yesterday and you are respectful, funny and a great companion these past days. Wounds aside, may I add.” He arched an eyebrow and nodded for her to continue. “And the thing is… well, you see, it’s not a command, just a suggestion, more like an offer actually and…”</p>
<p>“Hermione?”</p>
<p>“Oh, ok. Um, you can stay here as long as you need. I mean, until your memory comes back, that is. I’ll do some research and contact some friends from Brazil and see what we can do to help you. Harry, it’s not safe for you to go out yet. What would you do? You have no money, no contacts, no names, and don’t even know the motivations behind your attacker.”</p>
<p>“I can’t.”</p>
<p>“Why?” She asked in a tone of surprise and then defiance. She had thought out her arguments carefully through the night and the witch was sure that she could win this fight. </p>
<p>“Because, like you said, I don’t have any money. And I can’t be here all day hiding and spending yours, imposing. Besides, you wouldn’t have privacy here.” </p>
<p>“I eat takeout almost every night. I’m a terrible cook.” </p>
<p>“...And?” </p>
<p>“You, on the other hand, cook marvelously. I wouldn’t be spending my money on takeout food with you here cooking. If that’s the problem, then that’s a solution. And we can work on some glamours for you to go out and see the world, try to see if anything in the city can strike your memories back.” </p>
<p>He stared at her without saying anything and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. </p>
<p>“I’m sure that we could work this out, Harry. I promise you that I will do my best to restore your memories.” Hermione reached for his hand and held it tightly, the first real sign of affection between them. “Besides, if you go wandering around without a plan there’s no guarantee that you will find someone to fix your wings when you break them again.” </p>
<p>He tried to suppress laughter but failed miserably, jerking his head back. </p>
<p>“Too much?” She scrunched up her face in embarrassment. </p>
<p>“No, it’s sweet, really.” He tightened the hold on their hands and met her gaze. “Thank you, Hermione. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you, not even in a million years.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome, Cupid. It’s your fault for wearing that stupid costume, after all. You can’t get any cornier than that.”</p>
<p>“My instincts say you would be surprised.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: First of all, i would like to apologize for taking so long - exact twenty days - to post the third chapter. There was a lot happening lately in my life and I didn't have the time to read, write or even plan anything related to fanfictions until the last days. A big thank you to my amazing beta sonofahorcrux, who is a magician in her own way. I would like to thank all the thoughtful reviews and the kudos, bookmarks and signs of support that you have shown not only to this project, but to my other stories as well. </p>
<p>Today we reached 2000 members on the H.M.S Harmony Discord Group, a server that we talk about all things Harmony and some random things too. There’s plenty of fanfiction writers, readers, betas and artists out there too. Join! The link is available at hhhriscanonbitches*dot*com. </p>
<p>And finally: the robotic voice that Harry hears in his nightmare is a reference to Madonna’s song “God Control”, a disco odyssey that talks about Gun Control in America. I highly recommend giving a try. The other reference is “I think we can ask ourselves some of the bigger questions” line, which I borrowed and adapted from my favorite show of all time, “The Crown”. Season 4 is AMAZING! That’s all. I might post a one-shot in early December and i’ll work on another one for Christmas. See you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Long Story Short</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Gabriel cast: Ícaro Silva.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Tap. Tap. Tap.</em>
</p>
<p>A thunderous rain took over the streets of London, soaking the small garden in the back of Hermione’s house and crashing against the window panes. It was the only sound distinguishable over the downpour  in the residence apart from the sharp whistle of the kettle on  the stove.</p>
<p>After pouring the boiling  water into a thermos, Harry allowed himself a moment to reflect on everything that had happened.  More importantly, he was trying to prepare for what was about to happen. </p>
<p>Everything in his life since that fateful Halloween was different. His memory was a blank canvas, new territory, where he was the outsider. Would it be better to have forgotten everything? Remembering only small and seemingly inconsequential  details of himself was brutally cruel, or so he thought. </p>
<p>There was a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Every night he dreamed of the same thing: the pain, the kicks, the spits in the face. Then the image changed and he knew he was somewhere new, the street of the house where he was right now, but completely beaten. The figure that dragged him rang the doorbell and wished him well, but he couldn't remember the rest. There was some nonsense about taking an Avada Kedavra, but he was not worried about it. Harry was almost certain that the figure said some vital information about his life, but he could never remember it when he woke. </p>
<p>As soon as the last syllable of the word "luck" was uttered, the blood rushed in his ears and blocked the sound from the stranger’s mouth. To liven up the situation, he had somehow connected the name "Harry" to himself, when he found the blue velvet box with the name of Harry Winston engraved on it.</p>
<p>When they discussed it, it was decided that the name was somehow related to him-- maybe Harry was his father’s name or a great-grandfather who passed before he was born. In any case, the decision was clear: use this name until further notice. </p>
<p>More like a pseudonym, but he had to agree that it was better than ‘Cupid’. </p>
<p>His concentration was broken when he heard the key turn and the sound of rain momentarily increased, reverberating through the rooms of the house. He put his wand in place and peered behind the wall beside the kitchen counter, coming across a soaked Hermione muttering something about "stupid umbrellas and useless spells". </p>
<p>He was rather surprised, however, when the form of a black man, with a sparkling smile, a beard and braided hair also came into view.</p>
<p><em>'So this must be Gabriel,'</em>  he thought.</p>
<p>Gabriel Silva was a former classmate of Hermione’s, from Castelobruxo, in Brazil. According to her, Gabriel was the only reason she did not win the position of best student of the year, despite being an absolute prodigy in everything, particularly  in the field of healthcare. </p>
<p>Gabriel's father was a tycoon from the northeastern region of the country, having a cotton company that  exported its’ products to both the Muggle and wizarding world, becoming one of the main suppliers of the clothing industry. Gabriel, however , had taken a very different path. </p>
<p>The wizard had specialized in the study of ancient magic in his native region, and had turned out to be the greatest hope in Harry's case to date. Gabriel was there to help him recover his memory. </p>
<p>“Exactly! And I told her, I said ma’am… oh,” Hermione’s friend stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Harry, who had now walked out behind the wall. “Hello! Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Gabriel, a former classmate of Hermione’s.” </p>
<p>“Hi.” The awkward silence that followed his answer was on the verge of  becoming unbearable when Hermione broke it with a clap. </p>
<p>“Harry, could you please come with me for a minute?” She eyed the guest room and he nodded dumbly, following her and missing the funny look on Gabriel’s face. </p>
<p>As soon as he walked through the threshold she closed the door, confusing Harry further. </p>
<p>“Look, I know that we both agreed on this course of action, but if you don’t feel comfortable you just need to tell me and I’ll think of something else.” Hermione had a worried look on her face and he could see the exhaustion behind her eyes. “I can only imagine what you’re going through and I don’t want to impose anything that you don’t like. It’s just that after the jewelry box incident…” </p>
<p>She trailed off and Harry felt for the first time the weight that she was carrying on her shoulders. Hermione Granger was someone that cared about people, that had been clear to him from their first conversation in this same guest room. She cared so much, in fact, that her time off from work was spent researching ways to help a stranger recover his memories and worrying about her own safety, all while coping with her parents’ divorce. </p>
<p>There was something off about that Brazilian bloke, though, but he just couldn’t put his finger on the exact reason he didn’t like the guy. Seeing her expression, however, and thinking of her sacrifice… how long would it take if he didn’t agree to work with the guy? He couldn’t monopolize Hermione’s life. And what about him? He had to move on. There was no room for wasted opportunities in this situation. </p>
<p>“No, I’ll try his method. Have to start somewhere, right?” He gave her his best try at a lopsided grin, breaking into a genuine full smile when he saw her face brighten. </p>
<p>She reached for his arms and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug, the first sign of physical affection since he’d arrived at her home. He embraced her hips with his arms while she had her head in the crook of his neck. </p>
<p>“Thank you for trying, Cupid.” </p>
<p>“I thought we agreed to not use that name again,” he murmured in her hair, making the witch in his arms laugh softly. </p>
<p>“You can be Harry, Winston, George or Derek. But deep inside I’ll always see you as Cupid.” </p>
<p>Despite all the doubts, drama, and the weird feeling in his stomach, Harry smiled and took in the feel of the witch in his arms. Their moment was interrupted by a thunderous laugh coming from the living room, and they let go of the embrace to look at the door. </p>
<p>“I think we’d better go back. We need to define what to do in the treatment and pick a takeout for dinner.” </p>
<p>“Am I not cooking today?” He bit back the childish remark of ‘not being good enough to cook for your friend’, avoiding a weird moment that might ruin whatever they just had. </p>
<p>“It’s your day off. Come on.” She opened the door and they left the guest room, leaving behind the intimate moment that occurred seconds ago by silent agreement. </p>
<p>Gabriel was laying on the couch, crying of laughter while talking on the phone. </p>
<p>“Ok, I have to go. Bye bye,” he turned around and smiled broadly at them, standing up. “Shall we?” </p>
<p>Harry felt a sense of trepidation in his stomach, as if he was on the edge of a cliff with no possibility of going back. He had two options: take the leap of faith into the unknown or stay still, looking to be forgotten. The Brazilian bloke smiled reassuringly at him and his first reaction was to check Hermione’s reaction, without thinking too much about it. </p>
<p>He found her with a somber look on her face, aware of every movement made in her living room. The wizard found her eyes and they shared a look that seemed to speak a thousand words. If he was honest, it scared him. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on such trivialities, and Harry gathered all the courage he had left in his body to open himself to this stranger. </p>
<p>— • — </p>
<p>The absence of light in the room made the task of meditating much easier to him, and for that he was grateful. Speaking about your trauma out loud was hard, even more when you had no idea when the side effects would come to an end. </p>
<p>Gabriel concluded that he was suffering from something similar to a concussion, caused by the impact on the ground and the beating of his body. In a muggle, it wouldn’t take much longer for the memory to come back, but the problem was the way his magic reacted to protect his mind against the attacks. </p>
<p>In a wizard, the body and mind are linked by magic, similar to the defense cells in one’s body. During the Salem Witch Trials in the early 1600’s, too many wizards were hunted and hurt by masses who used fires and beatings, the pain of which sometimes drove the victims to insanity. No one knows how, but magic striked back and began producing defenses in a wizard’s body when faced with imminent physical danger or pain. </p>
<p>Harry’s case, however, was rare. Not many could say they’d received a beating like his and lived to tell the story. Long story short, his magic prevented his death and the price he paid were his memories. Now he could only hope to get them back, starting with the meditation and the exercises. </p>
<p>One more time. </p>
<p>Inhale, exhale, inhale…</p>
<p>— • — </p>
<p>“Surely he would understand if your arrival was delayed just for a couple of hours,” she said as the grass tickled her neck and the flowery scent invaded her senses. “The guest room is occupied for obvious reasons and I’m turning my old room into an office but… in any case you could sleep with me. Nothing that we never did, after all.” </p>
<p>He let out a delicious laugh that reverberated in her ears and reminded her of simpler times in Castelobruxo. </p>
<p>“I miss sleeping with you. I miss how things used to be.” </p>
<p>“I know. Me too.” She turned her head to the side and was welcomed with the sight of Gabriel looking at the clouds with a pensive look on his face. </p>
<p>After almost a minute in pure silence, he spoke again. </p>
<p>“I promised him I would arrive yesterday, but you know how International Portkey travel is. He must be fuming by now,” he shook his head with a swift motion, laughing softly. “Besides, it’s our three year anniversary tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Hermione jumped from the grass and sat down, staring at Gabriel with a shocked look on her face. </p>
<p>“What are you doing here? You should’ve been there already! Come on, let me help shrink the bags.”</p>
<p>“Hermione! Stop! Breathe for a moment. There’s no need for you to freak out, I have everything in order. Besides, it wouldn’t be me without a special appearance, right?” </p>
<p>She smiled as he opened his arms for a hug, falling into the grass on top of him and closing her eyes. </p>
<p>“I wish I had a love like you have with Andrew.” Hermione whispered softly as he caressed the waves in her chestnut hair. </p>
<p>“It’s far from perfect, but you will find it someday. Never were one to worry about being single, were you? What happened?” </p>
<p>“With my parents divorce I started thinking and… life is passing by and I’m stuck here, without anyone besides a stranger with no memory. And with a threat floating above this house. I’m tired, Biel.” </p>
<p>“Oh, sweetheart…” the man pressed a kiss in her forehead and tightened his hold of her. “You are beautiful, smart, caring, and have more things going on at this moment than I can imagine.”</p>
<p>They sat down in the grass looking at each other and he put his hands on her shoulders, with an honest gaze directed to her. </p>
<p>“We all have someone waiting for us. Love likes to play her tricks and make things a bit difficult, but… if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s because it wasn’t the right time nor the right person. Think of it as bad timing. Don’t worry.” </p>
<p>Hermione felt her eyes well and inhaled sharply, hugging her best friend again. </p>
<p>“Come on, let’s go. It’s time for you to make up for the lost time with Andrew. Send him my regards, will you?” </p>
<p>“Absolutely. If anything happens don’t hesitate to call me.” </p>
<p>“Thank you, Gabriel.” </p>
<p>“It was nothing, Hermione,” he smiled broadly with his perfect white teeth. “This is what friends are for.” </p>
<p>As they bid goodbyes and exchanged pleasantries, one green eyed wizard was shaken from his reverie, eyeing the pair with curiosity from behind a curtain that led to the backyard, unable to hear what was being said. </p>
<p>He was starting to feel an unfamiliar burning in his chest  and his heart was beating like a drum. He left his spot by the curtain and went to the bathroom to wash his face, staring hard at his reflection in the mirror. </p>
<p>Unknowingly, he was looking for flaws in his face. He didn’t know what had driven him here or why he was behaving this way or why the burning wouldn’t go away, and this confused him even more. What was happening? </p>
<p>He hadn’t realized yet, but, long story short? Harry Potter was jealous. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, everyone! It’s been a long time and I didn’t expected it to leave it hanging for so much time. But as the title says, long story short: I went through a writer’s block. In the last chapter reviews there was a lot of questions concerning some aspects of his memory and I *hope* I could liven up to your expectations. The title is inspired by one of Taylor Swift tracks in her latest album, “evermore”, which is simply amazing. I want to thank my beta sonofahorcrux for being the most incredible person that there is in this fanfiction world and to Rutledge, who kindly helped me to define some plot points. In case it wasn’t clear: Gabriel is gay. He knows, Hermione knows, we know. But Harry doesn’t. I don’t plan on doing a massive angst/pinning thing here, more something like Bridgerton (latest Netflix release which is the best thing in the year imo). Seriously, watch it. I think this a/n is not so short anymore but… Happy New Year! Thank you for reading this and the other little things I wrote in this hard year that was 2020. May 2021 be a better year. </p>
<p>Ps.: Join the HMS Harmony Discord to talk all things Harry/Hermione by typing hhriscanonbitchesdotcom (I can’t use the . here). If you want to, follow @thepottervault on Instagram, my account where I post edits in HQ in chronological order. We are on chapter 7 of Chamber of Secrets.<br/>See you next year! ;)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Hello! This wasn’t the story that i planned on posting after “I’ll Bring Back Your Love In Seven Days”, but… something inside of me told me that it was the right thing to do. It’s even more AU-ish than the previous one, hence Hermione and Harry not knowing each other. Again, we have Brazilian references in this story. And to clear something up, I’ll have to say this: I am eighteen years old, born and raised in Brazil. I’m not using cultural references for clout, as someone accused me in a review on another story. I know what I am writing about. It’s not on my plans to write Portuguese quotes in the middle of it – even though when I did that, it had a reason and a background for the character to do so. When I write something in another language that’s not English, I put the translation in the notes. </p><p>Sorry for venting, but it was something that really bothered me when I read and I felt that it had xenophobic undertones to it. I hope that you liked the chapter and that it captured enough of your attention for you to follow this journey with me. Big thank you to the best beta in the world (@sonofahorcrux).</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>